Friday, 16 March 2012

Remembering Mothers and Others

My husband’s mother who is in hospital in Spain, very poorly, with my husband by her side, her only child, and the place he should be at this moment.

I’ll remember also that I’m a mother. But without their father, my teenage children might forget. That’s all right. They don’t yet have to remember. If they go about their day, doing their thing, it’s okay. They don’t have to remember. Not yet. There’s time. We have time.

George, a friend of ours, he died this week. He has no time left. I don’t know how old he was but he was somewhere between my husband and I, somewhere between forty six and fifty five. He was a good age but not a good enough age to die. He was a bright man, a sparky man. He was intelligent in the same way my husband is, both of them unique in a way most people aren’t. George had seen things many men hadn’t and he was tortured in a way that left a permanent legacy.

We didn’t see him often. Sometimes five times a week, sometimes five times a month, sometimes none at all. He was a character, generous and quirky and flawed. He was a bit mad, too. But he was somebody that I liked, somebody I wanted to spend time with, somebody who made his mark. I didn’t know him well. I didn’t have to. I knew his worth. He was A GOOD MAN.

RIP George.

And for all of you out there with your mothers, or remembering your mothers, or wishing you didn’t have to, have a good weekend.

2 comments:

What a lovely post, Effie. I've been dreaming about my late mother a lot recently. She died at the age of 67 in 2004. I still miss her dreadfully. Such a pity she never got to see my children grow up. I had always pictured her attending their weddings some time in the future :-(

Thanks, Jo. Such sad times, things like mother's day, father's day, birthdays, and other times that make you miss people that aren't in your life. And I hate things like Valentine's day because not everyone has someone and even those that do, don't always want to be forced into it. Christmas can be very lonely for people on their own. I had a few of them, in years gone by, living in the capital and working shifts and picking up drunks and dead bodies whilst everyone else celebrated. It all sounds maudlin, I'm not being so intentionally. I just think sometimes, we care and remember in our own way and that's best.